


hold me tight

by NorthOfSomewhere



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Flash Fic, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:27:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26677420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthOfSomewhere/pseuds/NorthOfSomewhere
Summary: At night, Pratt dreams of a press of calloused fingers at his throat, disappointing and fleeting.
Relationships: Staci Pratt/Jacob Seed
Comments: 11
Kudos: 35





	hold me tight

At night, Pratt dreams of a press of calloused fingers at his throat, disappointing and fleeting.

He hears Jacob's voice somewhere behind him. When he turns he finds nothing.

"Keep going."

He wanders the snowy woods, pressing further inward. Jacob's voice guides him forward. He's cold, but that doesn't matter. Nothing matters but the task.

He keeps walking, one foot in front of the other.

"You're doing good."

He closes his eyes at the praise, savoring the warmth that it brings. He walks faster.

_I can do better._

He comes to a clearing. Jacob doesn't say anything, but he knows this is the place. It feels right. He almost trips over a rock. No, a body. Frozen to the ground. He steps over it. He stops when he sees what he came here for. There's someone else in the clearing. They're not facing him. He can't see their face.

"Do it."

It's over quickly enough. Blade through the throat. He turns the body over. A woman. He should go now.

But he's hungry, _so hungry_ , he just wants a taste. A small taste. The too-warm bite of iron fills his mouth and he's gagging, choking and -- he's awake. His clothes are soaked in sweat and his mouth is dry. He fumbles with the scratchy blanket, his hands are shaking. He can't quite catch his breath.

One of the dogs, wolves, he corrects himself, whines fitfully in its sleep and the anxious sound helps him to focus a little. He sits up. It takes him a long moment, his legs ache somewhere deep in his bones. In the moonlight his eyes adjust enough to see which one it is. He leans down to brush the back of his hand along her side as he stands to make his way to the cage door. She settles. He does too, sitting by the door. Fingers curled loosely around the metal bars. He tries to ignore the gnawing hunger in his stomach.

It's dark. He can't tell what time it is, but everything is still enough that everyone must be asleep.

The thought of Jacob sleeping comes to mind and he wonders how that looks. If his face softens out, if he _snores_ , if he talks in his sleep. Pratt imagines curling up next to him, making a space for himself. _He must be warm._  
  


* * *

He wakes up confused, shivering, head swimming. He doesn't remember falling asleep again. It takes a few seconds to work out what woke him, a few seconds too long because Jacob reaches down and pulls Pratt up by his shirt. A bruising grip on his arm when he's on his feet. He sways, vision fuzzing out, and he focuses on Jacob's hand on his arm. _I was right._ It burns.

His limbs feel impossibly heavy, but Jacob seems to have no problem pulling him along.

"Where are we going?" He says, thinks he says. The words feel wrong in his mouth.

"Gotta get you fixed up," Jacob says. "You'll be useless to me if you freeze to death."

_Meat for the freezer._

He doesn't say he won't be entirely useless. Jacob must have his reasons.

Jacob stops at a door suddenly, letting go of his arm to grab his keys, and Pratt finds himself close enough to smell the faint scent of wood smoke clinging to his fine, wool coat. He reaches out, feeling the material of it. _Soft._

He freezes when he realizes what he's doing.

"John bought it for me," Jacob says, before shoving Pratt into the room. His room, Pratt realizes. Even in the foggy state his mind is in, he can see that.

"Go on, get on the bed," Jacob says, and Pratt realizes he sounds tired.

He wants to listen. To obey. But...

"Sir?"

Jacob finishes taking off his coat, carefully laying it over a chair by the desk. He motions for Pratt to continue.

"I don't want to get your bed dirty," he says.

"Right. The cages," Jacob mutters.

He steps over to a small metal locker, pulls out a t-shirt and tosses it in Pratt's direction.

He hurries to get changed. Or tries to, his limbs still feel clumsy and heavy, pausing only briefly before tugging his pants off too.

Jacob turns off the light after Pratt crawls onto the bed. It helps with the awkwardness he feels. He wonders how close Jacob will allow him to be, doesn't want to risk moving closer. He holds himself very still at the edge of the bed.

"You'll fall off," Jacob says. Pratt watches him, but doesn't move.

He sighs.

"Beginning to think you _like_ me pulling you around," Jacob says, tugging at Pratt, pulling him close.

"Maybe I do," He says, sleepily, into Jacob's chest.

"Just go to sleep, Peaches," Jacob says, after a pause.

It's an order Pratt is happy to follow.


End file.
